Free Byzantine Heartbreak by Tracy Cooper-Posey Page B

knuckles. “I will return tomorrow.” He kissed her gently, but it was devoid of passion and she could tell his thoughts were far away from love.
    He strode from the terrace and into the house without looking back, just as Ryan had done.

    Ryan found her there an hour later. Nayara was still sitting on the divan, watching the first of the evening stars peek through the trellis at the top of the terrace. She could not cry and was too bewildered to try even if she could.
    He sat next to her and looked up. “Lathe came and found me before he headed to the docks,” he said softly. “He went out of his way to tell me where he was going for the night.”
    Nayara turned her head to look at Ryan in the deepening night. “He’s giving me to you?” she asked dryly. “How generous of him.”
    “He’s removing himself from the equation,” Ryan replied. “The first day I met you, Nayara, he made it very clear that you chose him. You are the one that chooses to stay with him, day after day, after year. He knows that. He said it, that first day. Now, he’s giving you another choice.”
    “You,” she said flatly.
    “If you’ll have me,” Ryan replied. “If you’ll reach out and take me. I know you want me, Nayara. I’ve watched you for a year and I know you, now. God, I’ve loved you for most of it. How could I not know?”
    She gasped. “You can’t love me,” she said slowly. “Salathiel—”
    “He knows, too,” Ryan said.
    Nayara closed her eyes as her fear bloomed large. “Knows what?” she pleaded.
    “All of it, I think,” Ryan replied. His hand, with the long clever fingers, curled around the back of her neck. “He is too clever not to have seen it, Nia.”
    She pressed her hand against his chest, feeling the hard wall of muscle and sinew. “Seen what?” she asked, although she already guessed what Ryan’s answer would be.
    He drew her head closer to his. “That you love me just as you love Salathiel,” Ryan told her.
    He was stronger than her, physically and emotionally. He dominated her, drew her into him. In truth she longed for him to stake the sort of claim that Salathiel never could, being human. Ryan either sensed her need, or was naturally inclined that way. His kiss was hard and demanding and his hands ran along the length of her body, feeling their way, even as his tongue thrust deep into her mouth. There was no gentle seduction. No coy teasing.
    Even as he kissed her, Ryan lay her back on the divan, his knee thrusting between her thighs, separating them.
    Arousal spread through her like a flame rising up in a fire gone wild. It whooshed the length of her body, making Nayara gasped against Ryan’s lips.
    He lifted his head to look at her properly. “Next time will be more sedate. I’ve waited too long for this, Nia.”
    Next time . She shuddered in anticipation, even as his fingers gathered up the hem of her tunic and pushed it above her hips. She fumbled to rid him of his own short tunic and the cumbersome belt.
    Ryan naked was as glorious as she had suspected him to be. There were rounded muscles, that rippled over his stomach. And his member was rigid and erect. Throbbing with the limited blood supply a vampire could spare for sex.
    He lifted her knee, leaned over her and pushed into her. The sound he made as he buried himself inside her was halfway between a growl and a groan. It came from deep inside him.
    Nayara curled her leg over his hip, as her body squeezed and trembled around him. She was already nearing the peak of pleasure and Ryan had done nothing more elaborate than kiss her.
    His fingers curled over the edge of her tunic, at the neckline. He ripped it aside with an impatient wrench, baring her breasts. He exhaled heavily at the sight of them. “Perfect,” he muttered and lowered his head to nip and lick at the tips with his teeth and tongue.
    He thrust slowly in and out of her as he worked, but that was its own torture. Nayara fell to pieces around him, her hips